Wreck-it Ralph Markowski Novels & Stories

It really was real. What you saw was correct. This is a werewolf pack house. Everyone here, except you and me, is a werewolf. Ralph is the alpha and also your mate. The reason behind his cold demeanour towards you is rooted in the fact that you are human. And he despises humans. Not only that, but in the werewolf world, humans are seen as fragile, vulnerable beings, unable to fully comprehend the complexities of their existence. When Ralph initially rejected you as his mate, it was a way of protecting you from a life filled with danger, uncertainty, and the uncontrollable instincts that come with being a werewolf. But you did something unexpected. I'm not sure if you were aware of what you w

Who can be that person that he can entrust her safety to? "You are thinking about the person right?: "You are right. "Keep thinking and good luck" Mark said and walked inside. Kelvin smiled, there can be no other person that can do the job except from Mark. Apart from being a werewolf, he is also his trusted ally and so he won't need much explanation on the Job. Mark came out a few minutes later with a book on his hand "What's that" Kelvin asked and Mark swing it at him. "Go through it, you will see a prefect way on destroying those two lads"

Uncle Maska had neglected the pack's legitimate transport and fruit plantation business and had turned to the flesh trade and possibly drug trafficking, though it would be more hidden. By evening, Alan's mind was racing. He ordered a chilled drink in order for him to cool down, and Paulo, a werewolf who had stuck with Alan since he arrived, came to deliver it. Paulo was an average-height werewolf with terrible dress sense that made him appear more dangerous than he was. After Alan finished his drink, he waved off his secretary and focused on Paulo.

If it wasn’t about to get Raven killed, the sheer bravado of it would have been cowboy poetry worthy. “Two minutes out,” Tony said, rounding a corner so quickly the tires squealed. I went over in my mind all that I knew about Marco Vitelli. Former Italian special forces. Expert in interrogation and demolitions. Utterly loyal to Xaviero (maybe since the latter had saved his life after Marco's family tried to kill him for fighting too much. Marco didn't just kill people. He made them suffer first. Made them beg. Made them break.

Why hasn't he destroyed the relic? "Because he doesn't know it is happening," a cold, mocking voice answered from the dark doorway of the breakroom. The metal lock on the back door suddenly shattered into pieces with a loud bang. The heavy metal door swung open violently, hitting the wall. Marcus Flint walked straight into the room, a cruel smile on his face. He wasn't alone. Three large, massive men stood right behind him in the shadows. They did not look like high school students at all. They had deep, jagged scars across their faces and eyes that glowed a sinister, dark red color. They were rogue wolves.

But of course, I have better sources that provides all I needed to know about mark and lets just say that the skulls breakers will never be heard of again. As for mark, I had him locked up in jail for months under strict supervision by the police force that works for me and unfortunately for them, they weren't able to do a good job because mark is out on the loose right now and he probably found out that I had killed all his gang members and in return, he burned down one of my warehouses. He will get what he deserves when I have my hands on him again That little fucker! He dared to destroy what belongs to Shane Ryder?! He still got some loose screws in his head because he has no idea who's h

“So, we’re doing it.” “Ariel’s in Atalaxia, Juniper’s in the freaking underworld, both of them facing death and negotiating wolf and cosmic power matches,” Mark mutters, scuffing the toe of his boot. “And we’re here saying hi to a delinquent.” “Oh, be polite,” Rafe says, unable to help laughing a little as he gives Mark a little shove. “I’m sure even you can take a little human delinquent on. She can’t be that tough.”

You don't move on from the person who holds half your soul. Marcus found me when I was sixteen, after my parents died in another attack. He took me in, trained me, taught me how to control the wolf inside me, how to fight, how to survive in a world that wanted us dead or enslaved. He was a good mentor, patient and skilled. But he never understood my obsession with finding Ava. "She's gone, Roger," he'd tell me, over and over. "Her family went deep into hiding. Even if you found her, approaching her would put her in danger. The hunters are still looking for you both. Your connection makes you targets."

Tonight, it smelled like desperation and cheap whiskey the stench of men trying to claw their way back from hell. He was already waiting when I walked in. Marco. Once my equal, now a ghost wearing a borrowed suit. His cufflinks didn’t match, and his shirt collar had a crease that screamed he’d ironed it himself. His smile was too eager, too stretched across a face that had lost its confidence. He rose when I approached. “Damien Wolfe,” he said, forcing a laugh. “Still punctual as ever.” “Marco.” I sat down across from him. “You look alive. That’s more than most can say.”

He licked his overly plump lips, revealing brown stained, crooked teeth, and I wanted to vomit. “Why does Marco hate werewolves so much?” I asked, trying to take his mind and attention off of whatever lewd thoughts ran through his head. “How the fuck would I know? The guy is more sick in his head than half of Bedlam, but he pays well so who am I to judge?” He stepped closer, backing me up against the back wall of the shed. I was lodged between the wall and the ancient lawnmower, with nowhere to go and no way of getting around Wilson and his gun.